noise dept.

Kaledo Art

No title available
Misplaced Lens Cap

oozey mess

blake kathryn

titsay

⁂
sheepfilms
🪼
taylor price
Not today Justin

pixel skylines
Keni
Monterey Bay Aquarium
d e v o n
Xuebing Du
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
dirt enthusiast
Show & Tell

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye
seen from Vietnam

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from South Korea

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Peru
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Guernsey

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@tumblypets
is anyone here ready for fat transgender summer can we give it up for fat transgender summer
💼 Teacher
tboy 4 tboy frotting session is a must
His pet
She didn’t remember when eating had become something she did automatically.
Not out of hunger—out of comfort. Out of habit. Out of the gentle relief that came with being full, heavy, slowed. It was easiest in the evenings, when the day had already taken everything it was going to take from her. When effort felt optional. When nobody expected much.
Especially him.
He noticed things without announcing it. That was what made it unsettling later, when she thought back on it. He never commented right away. Never stared. Never teased in the obvious way. He just registered.
The extra spoonful she didn’t need.
The way she finished what was left instead of saving it.
The soft pause afterward, hand resting on her stomach like it needed a moment to settle.
He didn’t interrupt. He waited.
“Comfortable?” he asked once, casually, from the doorway.
She laughed, a little breathless. “Too comfortable.”
He nodded, like that explained something. Like it confirmed a thought he’d already had.
That night, when she reached for another snack without really thinking about it, he said it for the first time.
“Easy, pet.”
She froze—just slightly. Not enough to make it obvious. The word landed oddly, like it hadn’t been meant to carry weight, and somehow did anyway.
“Pet?” she repeated, amused. “Since when?”
He shrugged. “Seemed fitting.”
She should have pushed. Asked what he meant. Made a joke sharper than a laugh. But the tone had been too calm. Too unremarkable. Like he’d called her by her name and she was the one making it strange.
She shook her head and kept eating.
But later—much later—she realized she’d finished everything.
After that, the word appeared more often. Not constantly. Not dramatically. Just threaded through ordinary moments.
“Come here, pet.”
“Sit—careful.”
“There you go. That’s better.”
Always paired with small acts of care. A hand at her back. A plate nudged closer. The quiet approval in his voice when she didn’t hesitate.
Her body responded before her thoughts did. She leaned in without noticing. Ate a little more when he was watching. Relaxed when he spoke to her that way, like there was nothing she needed to manage.
One evening, she caught her reflection in the kitchen window—softened at the edges, fuller through the middle than she’d been a few months ago. Her shirt pulled tight when she reached up. Her jeans sat differently now, pressing instead of skimming.
She felt a flicker of something—guilt, maybe.
He stepped up behind her, close enough that she could feel his presence without being touched.
“You look good like that,” he said.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Full,” he replied simply. “Settled.”
Then, softer: “Good pet.”
Her face warmed. She told herself it was ridiculous. Just a word. Just teasing.
But she didn’t tell him to stop.
And later, alone in bed, she realized something that unsettled her far more than the nickname ever could:
She was already thinking about what she’d eat tomorrow.
And whether he’d notice.
*
She told herself she wasn’t doing anything differently.
That was the lie she leaned on most often—that nothing had changed, not really. She still ate what she wanted. She still decided when she was hungry. The fact that she found herself thinking about food more often felt incidental. Background noise.
What had changed was how aware she was of him when she ate.
It wasn’t even obvious. He didn’t hover. He didn’t comment every time. In fact, he seemed almost deliberately restrained, like he was letting something unfold at its own pace. That made the moments when he did speak land harder.
She noticed it the first time she went back for seconds without pretending she was still hungry.
She hadn’t announced it. Hadn’t justified it. She’d just stood up, plate in hand, already committed.
He looked up from where he was sitting and smiled—small, slow.
“Good,” he said.
That was it. Just one word.
Her chest warmed in a way that had nothing to do with the food.
Later, she caught herself finishing a snack she didn’t even like that much, just because she didn’t want to leave it unfinished. Because stopping halfway felt wrong somehow. Incomplete. Like she was wasting an opportunity.
When she tossed the empty wrapper, he glanced over.
“Such a good girl,” he said absently, like it was an afterthought.
Her stomach felt heavy afterward—not uncomfortably so, just present. A fullness she carried with her as she moved around the apartment, slower than usual, less inclined to rush. She sat differently. Rested her hands more often against herself, as if acknowledging the weight there.
He noticed that too.
“Getting used to feeling full?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I guess.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “It suits you.”
That night, she ate until she felt unmistakably overfed—until the line between hunger and indulgence had long since blurred. She expected, dimly, to feel shame afterward. To promise herself she’d do better tomorrow.
Instead, she felt… accomplished.
He didn’t praise her right away. He waited until she’d leaned back with a soft exhale, eyes half-lidded, movement slowed by the mass settling inside her.
Then he reached out and squeezed her thigh—gentle, approving.
“Good pet,” he said.
The word sent a small, sharp thrill through her. Not because it embarrassed her—though it did—but because it felt earned. Like she’d done something right. Something specific.
Later, when she stood in front of the mirror to get ready for bed, she noticed the way her stomach rounded when she relaxed. The faint tension in her waistband. The softness that lingered even after the food had settled.
She pressed her palm there experimentally.
Full.
Satisfied.
And, somewhere deep down, already wondering how she could make him say it again.
*
She started noticing the space she took up.
Not in a dramatic way—no sudden shock, no moment of panic. Just small, accumulating awareness. The way chairs felt firmer now, pressing back against her. The way she needed a second to adjust when she stood up, her weight redistributing with a softness she couldn’t ignore.
Food lingered on her longer too. Fullness wasn’t something that passed quickly anymore; it settled into her, stayed, became part of how she moved through the day.
And he watched all of it with the same calm attention.
They were out together when it happened—nothing formal, just a quick stop somewhere familiar. She ordered without thinking, choosing what she wanted instead of what she should. By the time the plate was empty, she felt warm and heavy, pleasantly dulled.
He didn’t comment until they were standing side by side, waiting.
His hand rested lightly at the small of her back, fingers spread in a way that felt… claiming.
“There you go,” he murmured. “My pet.”
The word slipped into the sentence like it had always belonged there.
Her breath caught. Not because anyone else reacted—no one did—but because she suddenly realized how it sounded. How it looked. Her, full and slowed, standing close to him while he spoke about her like that.
“My,” she repeated later, once they were alone. She tried to sound amused. “That’s new.”
He glanced at her, expression unreadable. “Is it?”
She didn’t answer.
At home, she tugged at her shirt absently, irritated by how it clung. When she sat, the fabric pulled tight over her stomach, rounding instead of flattening. She made a small, frustrated noise.
He noticed immediately.
“Still feeling it?” he asked.
She nodded. “I think I overdid it.”
He smiled—soft, approving. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She flushed, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m just… bigger lately.”
He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his presence behind her again. Not touching. Just there.
“You are,” he agreed easily. “And you wear it well.”
Her pulse jumped.
“You’re filling out exactly how I like,” he continued, tone matter-of-fact. “Relaxed. Heavy. Comfortable.”
She swallowed. “You like it.”
“I do.”
The certainty in his voice made her feel strangely small, even as her body grew softer, rounder. She felt seen in a way that left no room to hide behind excuses or jokes.
Later that evening, she found herself finishing another meal she hadn’t planned on eating. Not quickly. Not guiltily. She ate slowly, deliberately, aware of him watching.
When she set the plate aside and leaned back, full to the point of sluggishness, he reached out and rested his hand on her rounded belly—solid, grounding. Small light pats followed.
“Good pet,” he said. “You’re doing so well.”
The praise settled into her deeper than the food ever could.
That night, lying in bed, she replayed the words in her head—not just pet, but my pet. The way he’d said it like a simple fact. Like ownership didn’t need to be negotiated.
She shifted slightly, feeling the softness of her own body respond to the movement.
For the first time, she wondered—not with fear, but with a quiet, guilty curiosity—
how much bigger she could get for him.
*
Her body was changing faster now. The fullness didn’t fade between meals anymore—it layered. Stacked. Her stomach stayed rounded even in the mornings. Her thighs pressed together when she sat. She moved with a faint heaviness that made everything feel slower, softer, less urgent.
She caught herself choosing clothes based on comfort alone. Anything structured felt like a challenge now. Buttons were unreliable. Waistbands left marks.
He saw those too.
One night, as she peeled off a tight pair of jeans with a soft huff of effort, he watched quietly from the bed.
“Those are getting ambitious,” he remarked.
She glanced at him, half-embarrassed. “They used to fit.”
“They still do,” he said. “Just differently.”
She hesitated. “I should probably… slow down.”
The word hung between them.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t contradict her. He simply waited.
She stood there, looking at her reflection—at the way her stomach pushed forward when she relaxed, the soft curve she could no longer flatten away. She felt exposed, uncertain.
Then she felt it—the absence.
No praise.
No warmth.
No reassurance.
Her chest tightened.
A minute later, she turned back toward the kitchen and opened the fridge without another word.
When she returned with food in her hands, he smiled like she’d solved something on her own.
“There you go,” he said. “Good pet.”
Relief washed through her so strongly it almost made her dizzy.
From then on, the pattern sharpened.
Praise followed indulgence.
Silence followed restraint.
She started anticipating it—adjusting before he needed to react. Finishing meals automatically. Adding little extras without thinking. Letting herself stay full, overfull, heavy.
He began commenting more openly now.
“I like how you’ve grown.”
“You’re softer every day.”
“That belly is rounder than ever.”
Each remark landed like permission.
One evening, she found herself sitting on the floor near him, plate balanced on her lap because the couch felt too cramped. She didn’t question how natural it felt—how right—to be lower than him, eating while he watched.
He reached out and brushed his knuckles lightly against her cheek.
“You’re doing exactly what you’re meant to,” he said.
Her eyes softened. Her shoulders dropped.
“Good pet.”
She swallowed the last bite, fullness pressing against her ribs, her stomach rounded and unmistakable.
And for the first time, she realized something with absolute clarity:
She wasn’t being pushed.
She was being shaped.
And she had never been so eager to fit.
*
The way he talked about her changed before anything else did.
It wasn’t louder. It wasn’t cruel. It was simply… more certain.
She noticed it one morning when she stood in the kitchen, still heavy from the night before, stomach full and rounded beneath a loose shirt she hadn’t bothered to change out of. She leaned against the counter, sluggish, comfortable, unguarded.
He looked her over slowly.
“God,” he said quietly. “You’re getting lush.”
The word startled her.
“Lush?” she echoed.
“Mmm.” His eyes lingered. “Soft everywhere. Like you’ve been fed properly.”
Her face flushed. “I’ve just been… eating more.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “For me.”
The certainty of it made her breath hitch.
After that, his praise sharpened. Took on weight of its own.
When she ate until she felt unmistakably full, he didn’t just call her good anymore.
“That’s it,” he murmured once, watching her slow, heavy movements as she finished another plate. “That belly looks perfect when it’s stretched like that.”
She froze, fork hovering. No one had ever spoken about her body like that—so plainly, so approvingly.
“I look… stretched,” she said weakly.
He smiled. “You look owned.”
The word settled into her deeper than anything before it.
She started hearing herself described as something made—something shaped.
“My soft thing.”
“My heavy girl.”
“My well-fed pet.”
Each phrase landed with warmth and heat and a faint, dizzying shame that only made her want more.
Her body kept up eagerly.
Her stomach stayed rounded now, even hours after eating. Her thighs pressed together when she stood. When she sat, she spread naturally, no longer trying to make herself smaller. There was too much of her for that.
He loved pointing it out.
“Look at you,” he said one evening, tone low and satisfied. “Taking up all that space. Like you’re supposed to.”
She laughed nervously. “You make it sound intentional.”
“It is,” he replied. “You don’t get like this by accident.”
She felt heat coil low in her belly at the implication.
One night, when she hesitated over a meal—just a flicker of doubt, barely there—he leaned close enough that she could feel his breath.
“Don’t stall,” he murmured. “I like you better when you’re full and slow. When you don’t think.”
Her fingers tightened around the fork.
“Yes,” she said softly, surprising herself.
He watched her eat, eyes dark, voice gentle and devastating.
“There you go. Stuffing that soft body just right.”
“My good pet.”
“So eager to please.”
By the time she finished, she was heavy with food and something else—something that left her pliant, warm, and deeply aware of herself as his.
He looked at her with quiet satisfaction.
“That’s my girl,” he said. “Exactly how I want you.”
And as she leaned back, full and flushed and undeniably changed, she realized the truth she no longer fought:
His words weren’t just describing her.
They were deciding her.
*
Heavy. Fed. Calm.
He liked her best like that.
She felt it in the way he looked at her now—openly, without restraint. Not checking. Not assessing. Just appreciating. Like she was something finished enough to admire, even if she wasn’t done growing.
She sat on the floor near him without realizing she’d chosen it. The couch felt too structured, too upright. Down here was better. Easier. Her body folded naturally, weight settling forward, stomach soft and present against her thighs.
He noticed immediately.
A slow smile touched his mouth.
“There you are,” he said. “That’s where you belong.”
Her face warmed, but she didn’t move.
He looked down at her for a long moment before speaking again.
“You know what you are now, don’t you?”
She swallowed. “Your… pet.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Mmm. Closer.”
The pause stretched. She felt exposed in it—full, heavy, breathing slow, thoughts hazy from comfort and expectation.
“My…” she hesitated, then let it go. “Your puppy.”
The word felt different when she said it herself. Smaller. Simpler. Stripped of negotiation.
His approval was immediate.
“There it is,” he murmured. “Good puppy.”
The praise hit her harder than anything before. Her shoulders dropped. Her posture softened. Something inside her unclenched completely, like she’d been holding herself together for years without realizing it.
He continued, voice calm, defining.
“You eat when you’re given food. You get big and soft for me. You don’t worry about things that aren’t yours to worry about.”
Each sentence landed like instruction and permission all at once.
“You’re not meant to be sharp or restrained,” he said. “You’re meant to be fed. Rounded out. Happy and heavy and eager.”
She nodded without thinking.
“Yes.”
He reached down and rested his hand on her—warm, possessive, certain.
“My good puppy,” he said. “Look at you. So well-fed. So responsive. You did beautifully.”
Her body flushed with heat at the words. Her stomach was full, her limbs pleasantly sluggish, her thoughts reduced to the simple satisfaction of being exactly what he wanted.
She didn’t wonder how big she’d get anymore.
She already knew the answer.
SOBBING I NEED THIS
pregnancy would be much hotter if it didnt result in babies. i think you should be able to knock someone up and they get bigger/milkier/etc but then nothing happens
kitty cat commission
do you have any tips besides increasing portions or eating more frequently? I can't really do that for a few reasons
What, like a magic potion? I'm sorry; you've named the two methods I know of. Not to be blunt, but your body needs food to get fatter. I'm also notably a "delicious food in abundance first, gaining second" kind of gainer, so probably not your ideal source of advice!
Godspeed in your mission, though
wise lesbian!!
every time I go out to dinner w the girl im seeing she eats soooo much…like i can always see her tummy poking thru her shirt / dress 😭 sometimes she’ll acknowledge it and say she’s carrying a bowling ball and make a lil joke out of it
I’ve never shared this kink w anyone!! how do i tell her i think it’s hot in like a chill way w/o freaking her out?
Sooo, despite the apparently ever-more-fatphobic-on-a-daily-basis hellscape in which we live, I'm a big believer in the basics of feedism (eating is enjoyable, big eaters are cute, people look good with some meat on their bones) being far more socially widespread and even acceptable than we sometimes think. There are limits to that, true, and there's a difference between "niche subculture and lifestyle kink" and "general cultural mores", but it's there. Which is to say that it's possible to overstate and overthink how "out there" our kink is to others. The sexually-open-eyed and not-wholly-bigoted-toward-fatness person is probably going to take this in stride.
I really think that it is so normal and not-weird to simply say "that's hot" when the girl you're seeing jokes about her big appetite, or being chubby, or whatever. Dating is about getting a feel for the other person; no-one benefits from you hiding what you think is attractive! And not to overgeneralise, but in lesbian spaces we often have a broader palette of what what we consider hot (and normal to think of as hot) than in straight society at large. How many dykes, both on- and offline, do I know who are openly lusting after wonky teeth and body hair and fatness and so on and so on? It's a lot.
To speak from experience: my girlfriend and I have never had "The Talk"; things that coasted close enough to my kinks came up (her famous habit of feeding me while cooking, for instance), which I wasn't going to lie about. That's hot to me! And likewise, there was this one cute moment years ago when she was having difficulty squeezing between a chair and the wall and joking about being "too meaty" or something, and my brain autopiloted immediately to saying "I love it". I love meat! I've mentioned before on here that she did once stumble onto this blog, and felt really apologetic for invading my privacy, which I guess could have been occasion for that kind of big coming-out as a feedist if I hadn't slowly rolled it out over time by being openly very into fat women and being apparently too sexy when I eat.
My final thoughts are: if you're worrying about breaking the news, then you're probably open to dating folks who don't identify as feedists. I know people who keep everything within the scene, because there's no mistaking things and you know your kinks are broadly aligned. If you're not in that camp, then I think it's worth bearing in mind that your sexual relationships are almost always going to be negotiations between what two+ people think is hot, and you may be bringing some feedist flavour into things while still not having a full-on "feeder-feedee" relationship (or mutual gaining thing, or whatever). And that's cool and fun! The other thought to round this out is: your blog shows that you're fairly young, and I assume your girl is of a similar age; from what I can tell of your generation is that trans girls online are working hard at normalising getting fat for fun at a pace never before seen. So, again, she may already be on board to some degree just through the gen z cultural grapevine.
NOT funny but im working on a drawing rn and looking for reference of stuff like tummy and love handles on google and it is pissing me off bad bc every result is either someone grabbing or measuring their tummy upset or just a skinny person w the text "GET RID OF BELLY FAT NOW" or something head in my fucking hands can i just get some reference to draw fat tgirl tummy PLEASE or i will start killing.
uh anyways if anyone has any good resources for chubby n fat reference photos uh drop it pls
Figurosity has a variety of body shapes in their library!
Fat Photo Ref is password protected to keep out fetishists (which ... Okay time to password project libraries of thin people pose references to keep out the skinny fetishists. Whatever. Just be respectful ig) but you can request access
Morpho of course, which is a print book you have to buy, but I bet you can find pages from it online
Pinterest is good for references. I searched "fat Photo reference" and found 12+ fat people in beautiful poses. There's a lot of ads and AI on there but still. I searched for boards but couldn't find any so maybe someone can put together a fat Pinterest board with many different sizes and shapes, or share if you already have one?
This site has some good examples (NUDE FIGURE PHOTO REFERENCE AHEAD) specifically for female references.
Here's one for sale from a model's kofi for $5 (I accidentally reposted this while trying to share. Pray for me)
Also have you considered using one of the many beautiful fat people on Tumblr that post pictures? Many fat tgirls specifically. @feedeekate and @softwheeliegirl come to mind first. If you DM them asking if it's okay to draw them I'm sure they'd be delighted
Anyone is welcome to rb with more please!!
Recently recalled your fun sims 4 modded adventures and wanted to ask, what (if anything l) are you currently working with while you play?
Oooh yes! Currently my main favorite mod is the Fat Fantasies Mod which has recently been fixed and playable again! It adds so much texture to feeder/feedee relationships and it's so much fun. I'm currently playing An Occult Legacy Challenge and my first heir is a Conspiracy Theorist and Scientist who solved the strangerville mystery and is also a feedee! Here's a picture of her when I first made her, needless to say she's a lot bigger now lol. Maybe I'll play more tonight and take some updated screenshots and add it to a reblog :3
I also have a tonnn of different sliders and body presets to make the bodies look way better. Some of them are mentioned in the fat fantasies mod thread, and some are compiled here - my old sims 4 fat mods compilation list
Hi! So I'm a huge Sims 4 fan and my favorite thing to do is peruse for Mods & go shopping for custom content. And of course since I'm a feedist fetish model, fat person, and fat admirer I've put alot of effort into finding mods for feedist/kinky gameplay and better, more realistic fat bodies!
Under the cut I've compiled all the mods/CC and placed them all into different categories! I've listed mods for Weight Gain Manipulation, Feedist traits & Gameplay, Misc Kink/Relationship mods, body presets & sliders, skin overlays, "feeding" type mods, food retextures, food delivery mods, Cookboook/recipe mods, custom food & food sets, and stuff for kitchen appliances and restaurants/food trucks.
I haven't used every mod on this list so use all of these with caution. However some of the mods/CC that I do use often & love I've marked as (fave) 😊
Happy Modding! 💚
speaking from my perspective only, i don’t think attraction to fatness is intrinsically or inseparably linked to weight gain. i think this is also why a lot of normie-ish fat folks dip their toe into feedism and are surprised that small-fat, chubby, and thin feedees get so much attention. both fatness and weight gain should be normalized and attraction to both is common, especially in feedist spaces, but i don’t think one automatically includes the other—or should, which i think is the argument being msre—yes, it is a little silly (fatphobic) to be attracted to weight gain and put off by fatness but, you know…many such cases. conversely, attraction to fatness that still stigmatizes weight gain (also, many such cases) exists but even then ! i don’t think marrying fatness and weight gain in this way is how we solve those problems.
this is more of a long parsing of my thoughts than anything of substance but i hesitate when fatness and weight gain are assumed to be two sides of the same coin for a lot of (more personal) reasons. i don’t love how, when i was more active in the feedist space on tumblr, a huge swath of people i talked to would assume i had been not just thinner but thin at some point in my life, which is what can happen when we connect fatness and weight gain too inseparably. there’s also a piece to be said about smaller/thin feedees who practice kink absent of significant weight gain that’s related to this but it’s not really my piece to be said. at the end of the day, in my perfect utopian society fatness would be just another kind of body (like tall, or thin, or muscular, etc) and weight gain would be something that just happened (or didn’t) and feedists could keep on doing whatever they wanted. but what do i know 🚶🏽♀️➡️
So well said, thank you for sharing your perspective ✨
@fatliberation has been terminated by tumblr staff.
I did not hit the self-destruct button! I was silenced! I’m officially an INTERNET FUGITIVE! this is my initial post just getting the word out, sorry if it’s a bit rushed and panicky - I’m trying not to get too worked up over it and just get this out there as efficiently as possible, but I’m the user behind @fatliberation. I am posting this from my feed1sm community blog, which was initially a safe haven for me to reach directly to the feed1st community without the scrutiny of non-feed1sts. luckily, it was not attached to the account that got terminated. go figure! I’ve sent an appeal request to tumblr, but I am doubtful that my blog will be reinstated because feed1sm is officially against tumblr’s community guidelines. yes, this is discrimination. here’s why feed1sm is not a fucking eating disorder.
obviously, I’m in extreme distress over this, because I did not have any of my work backed up. I’m devastated to have lost the hundreds of asks sitting in my inbox, the lists of resources I’ve compiled, and the six years worth of work in the form of replies and essays.
I know that much of my work is still out there on each of your individual blogs as reblogs. I might eventually try to organize a combing operation for specific posts so that some of it can be saved.
I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I will send updates from this blog. I will most likely make my own website with a domain that I own, but it will take me awhile. as many of you know, I’ve worked through a brick wall of deep-rooted shame to get to this point, so my blog being terminated on the account of promoting a culture of harm has caused my brain to backslide into shame-land. I’m experiencing anxiety and doubts about my character that haven’t come up in years. this termination happened during a time where I was taking a break from posting because my mental health was already on unstable ground. so it all kind of came crashing in on me. I’m okay. my friends are here for me. I know that it will take me a minute to get back up from this, but I am not going anywhere.
THEY CAN’T KEEP THIS BAD FATTY DOWN!
🐋✊⛓️💥
If you’re reading this, please spread this post around so my people can find me. my ko-fi account still lives.
I hope that even though much of it has been lost, the footprint it left will live on. running that blog has changed my life in immeasurable ways. getting to interact and learn from you all brought me community, acceptance, and love. I cannot express my gratitude to everyone who has supported me, and who stood behind me when I became vocal about feed1sm. you mean the world to me. I refuse to be silenced. my only ask is that you please keep spreading and circulating the fat liberation flag.
so. I’m wiping my tears and trying to think of this as rebirth. wherever I go from here, I won’t have to worry about censorship. when I got the news that it was all gone, the first thing that came to mind was this scene from pixar’s up.
In the end, it’s just a blog.
In liberation,
@fatliberation
My B-Day is coming up!!🥳
Around this time last year I was still super tiny. In fact I was trying to lose weight. I was miserable, being skinny just didn't make me happy. I'm so glad that I decided to start gaining. I've hit my highest weight so far and I've never felt so right💜
I've had some people ask about cashapp, venmo, clips, etc. I don't have any of those setup but I do have a Throne setup for food donations or gifts :3 https://throne.com/lunacoffeee
I feel a lil guilty getting gifts or donations but a friend suggested I make one.
The quiet nerdy girl got fat
I wonder what people that used to know me when I was skinny would think of me now 🫣
source